Surely the “flood of emigrants” that most marked the Argentine collective memory is the one framed in the crisis of 2001-2002. While in those days the contingent that chose to leave was quite heterogeneous (it was made up of various social and educational strata), as the BBC pointed out in a recent article, the most common type of emigrant today would seem to be that of the young professional. Even beyond this, a characteristic mark of these times is the cult of migration that managed to spread thanks to social networks: if in the crisis of 2001 leaving the country was a dramatic event, driven by desperation and where to get away from Argentina was really cutting off almost all communication, today emigration is broadcast on Instagram, Twitter and Tik-Tok every day and at all times.
“The sorrows are ours…”
But don’t be fooled: networks always show what the user wants to show. Although, fortunately, the trend of showing only perfection on social networks is gradually being put in check, the truth is that the general content continues to want to portray only perfection. We could think that it is because perfection sells in terms of mental escape for people who set out to achieve it (I myself, many times, fall into that temptation when managing my Instagram page).
The pure reality is that personal experience is only truly known by oneself, with all the implications it has on a day-to-day basis and that, due to fatigue or embarrassment, are not published. And so personal is the experience that one lives when emigrating (a combination of luck, virtue and feelings), that it is extremely difficult to conceive it as a generalizable phenomenon, although it is sometimes portrayed that way: for the task of emigrating there may be recommendations but not recipes.
In any case, there are some difficulties that probably arise in most migrations and they have to do with the very nature of migrating and our pre-existing perspectives, which are often too optimistic. We could start in this regard with the most elementary, such as the labor issue. Although the classic image of the “cup washer sudaca” generalizes too much, it is also true that it is an effective reality insofar as a newcomer is pushed to reinvent himself for tasks where no employer is interested (and disinterest often translates directly into mistreatment) one’s university degree.
At the same time (nobility obliges) it is also totally true that economically the parameters are very different and one feels (at least in the case of emigrating to developed countries) as if the difficulty of the video game changed from “Hard” to “Normal”. We must therefore admit that, despite the profound effects of the war in Ukraine on a global level (increasingly very real on a day-to-day basis, especially in Europe), even precarious work often guarantees a livelihood, unlike of what happens in our Latin American reality.
Regarding the famous “uprooting”, another of the most mentioned aspects when dealing with the subject, it is certain that the sensations are highly personal: not all of them come from the same background around their Argentine life, both in material terms and in terms of attachment to national customs and culture. Nor are all migratory destinations the same, since the most cosmopolitan cities tend to give a greater sense of being “world citizen” or, in Creole terms, of “be in the same” than the rest of the inhabitants of the place.
However, even taking into account all the possible variations, uprooting is not a myth, and the deep feeling of knowing you are in a place that is not your home (even when you feel comfortable) is very recurrent and understandable. In one’s home everything feels natural including even the negative aspects, while in the new place it is very difficult not to think of oneself as a “trial period” chronic in which you are forced into constant integration demonstrations. Language is a great exponent of this: if one emigrates to a place where a different language is spoken (even if one leaves with advanced knowledge) it becomes extremely difficult to reach the same level of spontaneity that one achieves with one’s mother tongue.
This spontaneity to which I refer is strange when, for example, dealing with bureaucracies that can make one reach surprising levels of frustration. (I could write another whole article on this about my experience in Italy, even being a citizen with all the papers in order).
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Pexels.
Finally, I would like to highlight a point that is closely related to uprooting, such as the longing for loved ones. It is clear that in these times of hyperconnectivity it is a problem that is infinitely easier to overcome than it was (unbelievably) just 15 years ago: while my Italian grandfather left his homeland and would never communicate with his sister again except by letter, today we have the possibility of having permanent contact with ours through a simple cell phone.
Of course, this route is not exempt from limits, since the time difference can make the routines of both sides of the world become somewhat incompatible with each other and obstruct fluid and more personal communication with respect to the mere WhatsApp message.
This becomes particularly frustrating when it comes to getting in touch with the youngest, for whom physical interaction is (we know very well that a pandemic is involved) simply irreplaceable.
Another brick in the Wall
As a final reflection, I would like to venture a hypothesis (perhaps a bit risky): The most challenging thing when it comes to emigrating is, in short, having patience with expectations or getting used to the idea that they may simply not happen. We usually have the vice of building a wall with which to collide from all those easy images that we constantly draw from social networks. Hitting this wall does not mean fatality, but simply a contact with reality insofar as, as I have already said, no migratory experience is universal and the results are extremely diverse:
Are you doing well emigrating? Excellent then. Did it go wrong for you? It can happen and there is no shame in having tried something that you honestly wanted to experience. What is wrong is selling colored mirrors
Historian (University of Buenos Aires). He completed a Master’s degree in Argentine and Latin American History. He is currently living and working in the city of Turin, Italy.
Source: Ambito
